


Silencing

by Anonymous



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Cock Warming, Deepthroating, Edging, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Gags, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Manhandling, Mild Humiliation, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, PWP, Praise Kink, Spanking, each chapter is a separate scene, kink meme fill, more gagged!Jaskier because there can never be enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:34:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24026683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier develop a new game: Geralt will gag him, at any time of day he pleases, for however long he likes. Geralt likes to do it while they travel, forcing Jaskier to walk behind Roach with leather pulled tight across his mouth. And when Geralt decides it’s time, Jaskier must earn his freedom on his knees.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 53
Kudos: 806
Collections: Anonymous, Witcher Kink Meme (Dreamwidth)





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a fill for [this prompt](https://witcherkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/429.html?thread=60077) on the witcher kink meme.
> 
> The first chapter is very soft, while the next two get progressively more intense. Each chapter has its own tags! If there's something I've missed that you'd like tagged, let me know in the comments :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier discovers a new kink. Geralt is happy to oblige.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific tags: gags, hair-pulling, praise, hand jobs, gentle kink discovery

The game first starts in the evening of an otherwise unremarkable day, just as they’re dropping off to sleep on a cheap straw pallet at a roadside inn.

“You know, I think I could improve the song if I changed some of the lyrics around,” Jaskier says into the dark. Geralt can feel the vibrations through his back. “And maybe the ending—that last verse was shit. I think it might be the content, honestly—no one wants to hear about—”

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls. "Shut up."

Jaskier ignores him as he always does, chattering on and on until Geralt can’t take it any longer.

“I will gag you,” he warns. And the talking comes to a sudden halt.

He hears Jaskier’s pulse racing in the silence, and Geralt thinks at first that Jaskier has taken his threat to heart. Then he smells the spark of arousal in the air; like a stoked fire, hot and heavy with want.

“Will you?” Jaskier asks. It sounds like he’s aiming for levity, but it comes out breathless and strangled. It's the same tone of voice he might use to ask _do you promise?_

Geralt rolls over, sits up in bed to see Jaskier’s eyes on him, shining in the faint light streaming in through the window. It’s too dark to parse his expression, but his lips are slightly parted. Geralt finds himself staring.

“Yes,” Geralt says, and sees Jaskier shiver.

There’s a long moment where they just stare at each other, a thick tension hanging between them, neither of them moving.

“Go on, then,” Jaskier says, and Geralt sees his throat bob as he swallows. 

Well.

There’s a thrum of anticipation in Geralt’s stomach as he reaches over the side of the bed, to the chair where he remembers Jaskier leaving the clothes he was wearing that day. His fingers catch on the scarf—a light lavender silk—and he ties a knot in the centre before rolling back over.

Jaskier looks down at it, then back up at Geralt, suddenly indignant. “The scarf? That was expe—mmf!”

Geralt takes advantage of Jaskier’s open mouth to push the knot between his teeth. Jaskier makes a soft, helpless noise as Geralt cinches it tight and ties it off behind his head.

He’s trembling, flushed—Geralt brushes the back of his hand across Jaskier’s cheek and feels the heat radiating from his skin. The hand travels to Jaskier's hair, strokes it back from his forehead. Then he grabs a fistful and tugs back, baring the soft curve of his throat.

Jaskier’s eyes close, and he draws in a long shaky breath through his nose. His pulse flutters in his neck.

“I can tell you’re enjoying that,” Geralt whispers in his ear, nearly a growl, and Jaskier lets out a muffled groan. “I can smell your arousal. Not to mention—”

His other hand reaches down, brushing light fingers over Jaskier’s cock. Jaskier whimpers, hips canting up, and Geralt pulls back before Jaskier can find any kind of friction.

“You don’t get to take that off until I say. Or do I have to tie you down?” Geralt asks, and Jaskier shakes his head. “You’ll be good?” Jaskier nods.

“Hmm,” Geralt says, a little doubtful. He settles back, releasing Jaskier's hair. 

He drapes one arm across his chest. He draws in close, presses his nose to the junction of Jaskier’s neck and shoulder and breathes in the smell of Jaskier’s excitement.

They lie together for a while—Geralt presses himself against Jaskier’s hip, enough so Jaskier can feel how hard he is, but makes no move to address it. Jaskier makes the occasional muffled sound, and each time Geralt thinks about how it would feel to pull out the gag and have Jaskier’s mouth on him instead. 

But the idea of the gag itself is so good—knowing that he put it there. That he’s finally silenced Jaskier’s garrulous tongue. That Jaskier can’t remove it without his permission.

He reaches up after a moment, and traces his hand across the edge of it. He feels where it digs into the sides of Jaskier’s mouth, and caresses Jaskier’s lower lip with the pad of his finger. Jaskier makes a small sound as Geralt presses in, just a little, to feel where the knot rests behind his teeth.

It’s wet, warm from the heat of Jaskier’s mouth. Geralt pulls his hand back and leans in, kisses the corner of Jaskier’s mouth.

“You’re being so good,” Geralt whispers, and Jaskier makes a small noise in his throat, flush deepening. “So good for me, Jaskier.”

He flicks the edge of Jaskier's nipple, just to hear the sharp inhale. Then he takes the bud gently between his thumb and forefinger and squeezes.

Jaskier arches up with a soft mewl, breath coming fast and shallow. Geralt strokes his hair with his other hand, very much enjoying the sound.

“Do you want to come?” he asks, voice husky and low with desire, and Jaskier shivers with a smothered needy sound. Geralt’s hand drifts again, and slips down the front of Jaskier’s smallclothes.

Jaskier whines and presses up into his hand. He hasn’t tried to touch himself, or Geralt; has barely moved at all.

Geralt strokes him gently, and Jaskier says something into the gag; too muffled to understand. He moans, and tries to talk again, and then just throws his head back with what is certainly a stifled curse. Jaskier’s cock is leaking already, and Geralt smears pre-come down across the shaft.

Jaskier’s hand comes up, brushes at Geralt’s free hand, and Geralt takes hold of his wrist and pushes it back up against the mattress, close to Jaskier’s shoulder.

“Stay,” he says gently, and laces their fingers together. Jaskier squeezes his hand with a small sound of contentment.

Geralt lines them up and strokes them off together, something they’ve done countless times before. But with Jaskier gagged his sounds are so much more desperate, and Geralt watches how he swallows around the knotted silk and moans, over and over again, and then cries out as he reaches his peak. His fingers spasm as he spills across their stomachs.

Geralt takes himself in hand and follows soon after, pleasure cresting into something sweet and lingering; he groans, and paints Jaskier’s chest and stomach with his seed. 

When he's recovered, he swipes a hand through the mess and brings it up to Jaskier’s lips.

Jaskier watches him as he undoes the gag, eyes dark. Then he leans forward, taking Geralt’s fingers into his mouth. He licks them clean with a flash of tongue, and then angles his head up for a kiss.

Geralt obliges, and tastes the both of them mingled on Jaskier’s lips.

“Fuck,” Jaskier sighs, lying back. Geralt hums agreement. He cleans them off with the edge of the sheet, and settles in beside him.

They leave the conversation for the morning, fitting together like two halves of a whole, limbs tangled together. Geralt drifts off to sleep with Jaskier’s face against his shoulder, warm and sated and finally quiet.


	2. On the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rules are set. Geralt puts Jaskier through his paces, and Jaskier shows Geralt just how good he can be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kind responses! I love comments and kudos alike. The final part will be up in the next day or so :)
> 
> Chapter-specific tags: gags, manhandling, mild humiliation, deepthroating, oral sex, praise, aftercare

“So, last night,” Jaskier says over breakfast, sounding unusually hesitant. Geralt looks up from his watery porridge to meet Jaskier's eyes. “That was—uh. Really good.”

Geralt hums.

“Yeah, I—didn’t think I’d like that so much,” Jaskier continues, a little pink in the face. “But I’d really like to do it again.”

Geralt gives him a considering look. “What part did you like?”

Jaskier, if possible, looks even more embarrassed. “Uh. The part where—you know. You just—took charge. And did it. Kind of out of nowhere.”

“You want me to surprise you?” Geralt asks, half-joking, and Jaskier nods vigorously.

“Yeah, that would be—gods. If you did that again—just, not when I have to perform or anything. But if you just—shut me up when you want to. You could push me around a little, maybe. Like you’re forcing it.”

Geralt can get behind that.

"Then if I gag you, you can't remove it," Geralt tells him. Jaskier nods, eyes bright. "I'll only take it off after you've earned it."

"Yes," Jaskier breathes. "Fuck."

They work out a way for Jaskier to signal him if something goes wrong, but Geralt will probably be able to tell if it comes to that.

He thinks about it for the rest of the day, as they’re travelling to the next town. Jaskier seems his usual self, following along behind Roach with a constant stream of chatter, pointing out every pretty thing that catches his eye; musing out loud about Geralt's next hunt. 

The idea of being able to control Jaskier’s mouth is growing more and more appealing.

He can sense Jaskier's anticipation—maybe that's why he's being so loud today. He wants to see if Geralt will follow through on his word. He doesn’t have his lute out, isn’t composing, which strikes Geralt as very suspicious.

So he doesn't. Not today.

That night he digs through his saddlebags while Jaskier is keeping an eye on their dinner. He finds what he was looking for: a long, soft strip of leather. He'd been planning to use it to rewrap the hilt of his silver sword, before he notched the blade on a gargoyle's hide a few weeks back and had to have a new one crafted. He hadn't trimmed it down yet—it's wide enough to cover Jaskier from the base of his nose to his chin.

He keeps Roach between him and Jaskier's line of sight as he cuts the ends, dividing them into two strips and narrowing them at the top to make it easier to keep in place. Then he slips it into a pocket and returns to the campfire.

Jaskier keeps eyeing him expectantly, and so Geralt does nothing. He ignores the steady stream of words well into the evening. He hears Jaskier sigh, finally, and settle in for the night.

Jaskier is a little more subdued through breakfast the next morning, and Geralt waits for the right time. He finds it as Jaskier is packing his things back into his bag, bent forward on his knees.

"Geralt, have you seen my—ah!"

Geralt grabs Jaskier by the back of his doublet and lifts him upright. Jaskier yelps as Geralt presses him face-forward into a tree. The shot of surprise in his scent is quickly overpowered by desire, and he grows still, trembling in Geralt's hands.

"Were you trying to provoke me yesterday?" Geralt asks him in a conversational tone. Jaskier doesn't reply, and Geralt gives him a slight shake.

"Yes," Jaskier answers quietly. "Geralt—"

Geralt growls, enjoying the way Jaskier's knees go soft as butter at the sound. He moves close, until their bodies are flush with one another, and he can feel Jaskier in one long line of heat across his front.

"Be silent," Geralt hisses, and digs into his pocket.

Jaskier whimpers at the touch of leather across his lips, and Geralt slowly draws it tight. It's supple, the perfect size, and he ties it off around the back of Jaskier's head. The narrower strips he cut last night curve up over his ears to keep it securely in place.

Maybe they can have something crafted in the future, specially for Jaskier. For now, this will serve.

Jaskier makes a soft sound of surprise when Geralt releases him, slumping against the trunk of the tree. Geralt walks off, toward Roach, and finishes tacking her up like nothing happened at all.

"Mmhf? _Mmmn!_ "

Geralt doesn't turn to look.

He hears unsteady footsteps behind him. He doesn't give Jaskier any attention at all until he's on Roach, guiding her back toward the road, and Jaskier keeps making those shocked sounds, trying to speak even while thoroughly gagged.

"Come on, Jaskier," he says in a mild tone, and turns his head to meet Jaskier's wide eyes.

Jaskier finally seems to understand; Geralt watches as his face reddens. He makes one last muffled noise, disbelieving, and then swallows hard.

Geralt gives him a moment to think it over, and when there’s no protest he urges Roach forward. 

He hears Jaskier fall into place behind him, making little stifled sounds of outrage. But he walks, and Geralt revels in the quiet.

He leaves Jaskier gagged until mid-day. They pass a few travellers on the road, and Geralt can smell the hot surge of self-consciousness each time they go by. Jaskier tucks in behind Roach, face turned away, flushed red and silent. He tries to make himself inconspicuous, but with the outfit he’s wearing that’s no mean feat. Jaskier is as bright and colourful as a thoroughly embarrassed bluebird.

Most of them don't notice, too embroiled in their own affairs. The ones who do say nothing, only stare as they go past.

They stop in a small clearing off the road for lunch, and Jaskier sinks to his knees. He doesn't try to remove the gag; just looks at Geralt imploringly.

Geralt ignores him while he tends to Roach. Jaskier doesn’t move from his position on the ground, and eventually Geralt returns to him.

"Have you learned your lesson?" Geralt asks, and Jaskier nods. "Do you want me to remove the gag?" Jaskier nods again.

"What will you do to earn it, Jaskier?"

Jaskier's eyes darken, pupils dilating. He takes a shaky breath in through his nose, and crawls over to kneel between Geralt's legs. A gentle, tentative hand touches Geralt’s thigh.

Jaskier stares up at him so prettily, Geralt feels himself relent. He brushes a hand along the side of Jaskier's face, and Jaskier leans into the touch.

Jaskier bends forward, nuzzles the front of Geralt's trousers with an eager sound, rubbing at the outline of Geralt's cock.

Geralt nods when he looks up again. Jaskier unlaces Geralt's trousers, pulls out Geralt's cock, and Geralt removes the gag.

Jaskier immediately sinks down, taking Geralt into his mouth without any intervening sound. His warm, clever tongue slides down the base of Geralt's cock, and his lips close around the shaft. Geralt curls his fingers into Jaskier's hair, keeping only a light pressure on his head.

Jaskier starts to move, bobbing up and down, drooling down his chin. His wet fingers grasp the base as he swallows, trying to draw him deeper. It's always a struggle, but Jaskier takes as much as he can handle, ever eager for more.

"Good," Geralt says, resisting the urge to thrust into Jaskier's sweet mouth. Jaskier smiles around his cock at the praise, tears leaking out of his eyes as he sinks further down. He's beautiful, flushed and brimming with arousal. Jaskier pushes forward, swallowing Geralt down until his lips meet the edge of his hand, and Geralt is held tight inside the wet heat of his throat.

Geralt caresses the sides of Jaskier's face, thumbing away the tears. His jaw is forced wide to accommodate Geralt’s size, lips stretched tight around the girth of his cock. Against the flushed skin of his face, his eyes look very blue.

"You look good like that," Geralt tells him. "With your mouth full. Almost as good as you look gagged.” Geralt runs his fingers through Jaskier’s hair. “If you’re not using it on me, then your mouth is no use at all."

Jaskier tries to scowl at him, but the effect is rather ruined by the way he slurps around Geralt's cock. He draws back to breathe and sinks down again, and then starts up a slow, rocking rhythm.

Geralt groans quietly as the head of his cock strokes along the back of Jaskier's throat, impossibly soft and yielding each time Jaskier presses forward. The hot sparks of pleasure are like lightning, making him want to thrust, to plunder, to take everything Jaskier will give him.

"Did you notice those men we passed on the road?" Geralt asks him, and Geralt smells the slight flare of residual embarrassment. "Anyone who sees you like that will know you're mine, _Jaskier_ —"

He cuts off with a groan as Jaskier does something that makes his throat tighten. It won't be much longer now. Geralt can feel the pleasure building, bright and heavy and growing closer to its peak.

He looks down to see Jaskier looking back at him, eyes full of trust and something warm and unknowably deep, and the pleasure tips over the edge into bliss. Geralt groans, long and loud, and pulls on Jaskier’s hair. Geralt spills down his throat with a hot surge of satisfaction. He can feel Jaskier swallowing around him, taking every drop.

Geralt lets go, panting, and Jaskier pulls carefully back. Geralt's cock leaves his mouth with a wet pop, a string of saliva stuck to Jaskier's lip. They're swollen red and enticingly wet. Jaskier tucks Geralt back into his trousers, doing up the ties, and after he's done Geralt catches his chin with a firm hand.

"Have you been good?" Geralt asks him, husky and low.

Jaskier nods.

"Do you think you've earned the right to come?"

Jaskier hesitates, eyes shining. "Please," he begs, a little hoarse. He's tented the front of his trousers, and Geralt can smell his need.

"Then touch yourself," Geralt tells him. "Don't come until I say."

Jaskier groans, and his hand moves gratefully to comply.

Without the gag Jaskier is so much louder, panting with little needy sounds low in his throat. Geralt kneels down and wraps a hand around his neck, just firm enough to make Jaskier moan.

"Geralt," Jaskier gasps.

"If you talk, you don't get to come at all," Geralt tells him.

Jaskier whines in protest, but his mouth closes. He bites his swollen lip, trying to stifle his instinctive need to speak.

Geralt kisses him, hand still resting gently on Jaskier's throat; Jaskier kisses back with a groan, wet and sloppy as he gets closer to the edge.

He whimpers into Geralt's mouth, begging wordlessly, and Geralt relents.

"Good boy," he says, pulling back. His fingers tighten, just a little, pressing against the pale column of Jaskier's throat. "Come for me, Jaskier. Now."

Jaskier tilts his head back with a cry, and spills into his hand.

He comes down slowly. Geralt releases him, sits back as Jaskier cleans himself up with a handkerchief. Then Geralt pulls him over to the base of a tree and sits down, gathering Jaskier into his arms. Jaskier curls in against his chest. Geralt looks after him, slowly giving him water and stroking his hair.

“You did so well,” Geralt says.

Jaskier smiles at the praise. He basks in Geralt’s arms, warm in the dappled sunlight, until his stomach growls loud enough to hear.

Geralt laughs, and they have lunch at the base of the tree.

“You looked good like that,” Geralt says. “Walking behind me with that gag on.”

Jaskier makes a cross sound around the bit of bread he’s eating. “Geralt, on the _road?_ ”

He doesn’t smell angry, or even really upset; so Geralt just hums.

“Was it too much?”

“No,” Jaskier replies after a moment. “Just—different. I didn’t expect you to make me walk like that. For _hours_. What if we met someone I know?” His voice is still a bit raspy, and Geralt feels a little curl of satisfaction.

“You did ask me to surprise you,” Geralt reminds him, and Jaskier laughs.

“I did, didn't I? I wouldn’t mind doing it again,” Jaskier says. “On the small roads. Not in town, though, please.”

“Agreed,” Geralt says, and they finish their lunch.


	3. In the Wild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier acts out, and Geralt teaches him the value of patience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific tags: gags, a bit of consensual non-consent (during the gagging), light bondage, spanking, edging, crying, cock warming, anal sex, outdoor sex, praise, aftercare

They have a gag made in the next town they pass that’s large enough to have a decent leatherworker. Jaskier comes with him, radiating embarrassment, so the man can cut it to the correct size.

It’s simple enough—close to the makeshift gag Geralt made on the road. But this one has straps that buckle securely in behind Jaskier’s head, and the leather lies perfectly flat and tight across his mouth. The buckles themselves are small and fiddly; hard to undo if you can’t see what you’re doing.

Knowing that Jaskier won’t take it off is one thing—knowing that he probably _can’t_ is something else. It’s an expression of trust that makes Geralt feel very warm.

“Enjoy yourselves,” the man says dryly, just as they’re leaving the shop. Jaskier’s ears are positively flaming.

They enjoy themselves quite thoroughly that night, and a few days after that. They often use it when they stop for the evening, safely ensconced in a private room at an inn. But Geralt prefers the outdoors. 

He knows by now that Jaskier likes the opportunity to struggle; to fight and be subdued and made silent by force. There's a dark, predatory instinct in Geralt that likes that as well: the drive to conquer and devour that he can indulge through their game. It's easier to do outside, in the wild, out of sight of civilization and all of its constraints.

And so it's after breakfast on a clear summer morning when Geralt grabs Jaskier by the waist and drags him belly-down into the grass.

They’ve barely started out and Jaskier is already rambling, talking about anything and everything that comes into his head, and Geralt can’t handle a full day of this. Jaskier has already picked up a good head of steam, and is likely to go on for some time if left unchecked.

So Geralt halts Roach, dismounts, and turns on his obnoxious bard. Jaskier isn’t even looking in his direction; he doesn't get the chance to try to run. He startles and squeaks in surprise as Geralt tackles him to the ground.

Jaskier puts up a perfunctory but exaggerated resistance, scent turning hot and excited. But his shouting is loud enough to compensate.

"Aahh! Geralt, wait, what are you doing—!"

Geralt pins him down and traps his arms with his knees, then forces the gag onto him, folding the leather around his mouth and doing up the straps. Jaskier's vociferous protests are abruptly cut off as the gag tightens. 

Jaskier mumbles unintelligibly into the leather and then falls silent, trapped and trembling like a prey animal. He smells so good, and Geralt can feel his rapid heartbeat through his back. 

Geralt gives into the impulse and bites down on the back of Jaskier's neck, just hard enough to elicit a muffled cry. Then Geralt lets him up. And Jaskier doesn’t really have any other choice than to start walking again.

They're trekking through full wilderness today; not much chance of encountering anyone at all. But the wide open vulnerability, the possibility of it, as Jaskier walks and whines but stays forcibly wordless—Geralt will never tire of it.

Jaskier is never totally silent, grumbles and whimpers and little muffled complaining sounds slipping through the gag every now and then. They’re fun to listen to in a way that Geralt can’t really explain. It’s not quite a sexual enjoyment, but it’s close. And by the end Jaskier is like clay in his hands: soft and warm and wonderfully pliant. He's never so obedient outside of their games.

When Geralt finally stops Roach and hitches her to a tree, Jaskier sags in relief. They had a late breakfast, and so they haven't stopped for lunch. Jaskier has been gagged for most of the day. 

Geralt has kept half his attention on him, and the whining never tipped over into honest distress. His hands would drift up occasionally to touch the gag, but he hasn't tried to remove it.

The beseeching glance Jaskier throws him now is sweet in its desperation, but Geralt will not allow himself to be moved. He has plans of his own for tonight. For how Jaskier will earn his freedom.

They set up camp in silence. Even just watching Jaskier do mundane tasks with the gag on lights a fire in his belly, one Geralt will have to ignore if he wants this evening to go the way he hopes.

When the firepit is ready to be lit and the bedrolls are arranged, Geralt finally turns his attention to Jaskier's predicament.

Jaskier makes a small needy sound in his throat when Geralt approaches him.

"You have two choices, Jaskier," Geralt says. "I can remove that now. But you won't get to come tonight."

Jaskier whines his protest, eyes shining. Geralt strokes his thumb over Jaskier’s covered lips.

"Or you can do as I say, and earn it," Geralt tells him, and steps away. "Strip."

Jaskier makes a small sound of acquiescence, and starts to remove his doublet.

"Wait for me there," Geralt says, gesturing at the spread blankets, and Jaskier goes.

Geralt takes his time, brushing down Roach and giving her food and water. He can smell Jaskier's arousal clear across camp, but he's in no hurry to address it.

He removes his armour, leaving him in his shirt and trousers, and arranges it neatly next to their packs. He selects a bottle of plain oil from among his things and slips it into his pocket.

When he returns, Jaskier is naked and kneeling. His cock stands heavy between his legs, fully erect, and Geralt hums. A few things rearrange themselves in his head, and he settles on a plan of action.

"Have you been cheating?" he asks, and Jaskier's head snaps up. "Did you touch yourself while I was away?"

Jaskier flushes, caught, and Geralt shakes his head.

"You should know better," he admonishes, heavy with feigned disappointment. Jaskier makes a muffled sound of apology, but his eyes are very bright, pupils blown wide. “Turn around.”

Jaskier hastens to obey. Geralt pulls off his belt and uses it to bind Jaskier’s wrists behind him.

"If you need to stop, use the signal," Geralt whispers into his ear. "Otherwise, you'll take your punishment in silence."

Jaskier nods, and then exhales sharply as Geralt tips him and bends him over his knee.

Geralt's hand comes down with a ringing slap, and Jaskier jerks forward with a whine. His hands curl into fists behind his back. 

Jaskier's shapely arse grows beautifully pink, gaining more colour with each strike. The sound carries through the forest, and Geralt entertains the thought of some hunter or charcoal-burner coming across them, with Jaskier arse-up and whimpering in Geralt's lap, naked and bound and completely helpless.

Jaskier's hips move as he rubs himself against Geralt's thigh, and Geralt gives him one final smack before lifting him up by the shoulders.

"You're being very bad today," Geralt tells him. Jaskier is breathing hard through his nose, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. "The only pleasure you get is what I decide to give you. Understand?"

Jaskier swallows and then nods, and his arousal smells so damn good. Geralt wants to bathe himself in the scent.

Geralt finds a comfortable spot at the base of a tree, and begins.

He bends Jaskier forward on his knees and teases with an oil-slick fingertip, drawing lingering strokes across his hole without pressing in. Jaskier moans, and Geralt enjoys how the gag swallows the sound. Jaskier presses his face down and presents himself shamelessly to Geralt's ministrations, nudging up repeatedly until Geralt gives in.

Geralt slips two fingers inside, stretching and exploring as Jaskier makes greedy sounds into the blankets. He finds Jaskier's prostate and drags across it in a hard back-and-forth stroke.

Jaskier's knees give out, and he makes an obscene sound that's only partially muffled by the gag. Geralt massages the same spot, pressure firm and merciless, until Jaskier's stifled cries are loud and desperate. He's flushed all the way down his shoulders, with his cock dribbling precome onto the blankets.

Then Geralt stops completely. Jaskier whines, pressing his arse up against Geralt's hand, and Geralt gives it a light swat in response. Jaskier squawks indignantly, but after a while he settles again.

Geralt does it again, and then again, edging Jaskier closer to completion before backing off, until Jaskier is a whimpering, shaking mess. 

"Do you want it, Jaskier? Do you want my cock inside you?"

Geralt traces the reddened edge of his hole, and Jaskier moans, a long broken sound that curls tight around the desire in Geralt's gut.

"Do you?" Geralt presses in with a fingertip and withdraws it again; Jaskier's hole twitches at the absence, bereft.

Jaskier's hands clench uselessly as he tries to chase Geralt's hand, only to be stopped and denied again.

"Mmnnh," Jaskier tries, and moans again in open frustration. _"Mmnnh!"_

Geralt finally takes pity on him. He presses in with both fingers, and adds a third to work Jaskier open properly.

And then Geralt unlaces the front of his trousers, just enough to free his erection, and pulls Jaskier back onto his cock. Jaskier takes all of him, every inch, the way he was always meant to. The tight, pleasurable slide of friction makes Jaskier's eyelids flutter.

Jaskier groans low in his throat. Geralt settles him into his lap, mindful of his bound hands, with Jaskier's knees spread to either side of Geralt's thighs. He keeps his hold on Jaskier's hips, holding him down when he tries to move.

"Stay," he growls, and Jaskier goes still again. He squirms a bit until he shifts his arms to a more comfortable position, and then goes obediently limp.

Geralt leans back against the tree and closes his eyes, feeling the tight warmth of Jaskier around him like an embrace. 

Geralt holds him there, slipping into an almost meditative state. He draws on all of his self-control to stay still, to keep from thrusting up into the beautifully responsive body in his lap.

The hot expanse of Jaskier's skin is a gift, fully on display against the black of Geralt’s shirt and trousers. Geralt runs his fingers through the dark hair on his chest and belly, up to Jaskier's neck, where his pulse beats fast as a rabbit. He feels it start to slow as Jaskier gets used to his position in Geralt's lap, motionless and delectably full. His bound hands clutch helplessly at Geralt's shirt—the only part of him he can reach.

Geralt reaches around to tease Jaskier's cock every once in a while, whenever he seems to be getting too comfortable. The light caress of his fingertips has Jaskier aching for more contact, struggling to thrust up into his hand. He clenches around Geralt each time he tries, a sweet flare of pleasure that earns Jaskier no relief.

" _Mm_ hnm!" Jaskier begs wordlessly, panting through his nose. But Geralt holds him in place, doesn't give Jaskier the release he so desperately wants. Tears run down his cheeks, and Geralt kisses them away. 

"You're doing so well," Geralt murmurs. "So warm and tight for me, Jaskier. So obedient."

Jaskier whimpers quietly. His eyes are red-rimmed and wet-lashed, soft and pleading for clemency. Geralt kisses his temple.

"Next time we'll do this with your mouth," Geralt rumbles in his ear, and then moves to bite at the side of his neck. "You'll hold me on your tongue for as long as I tell you. You’ll be so good for me, won’t you?"

Geralt can picture it, Jaskier drooling into his lap with his mouth full of Geralt's cock. He sees them in a tavern, Jaskier kneeling beneath the table, tucked just out of sight of any prying eyes; forced to stay still and quiet to avoid discovery. Geralt will leave him there for as long as he likes.

Jaskier nods. He makes a muffled sound, then swallows and tries again. It sounds a lot like his name, and Geralt strokes the side of his waist. Jaskier squirms, and Geralt holds him still, but it feels like Jaskier is reaching his limit.

A few seconds later, he picks Jaskier up by the hips and tilts him forward again.

Geralt's cock has softened somewhat since they started, and he pulls out and coaxes it back to hardness. Seeing Jaskier spread out in front of him like a feast, smelling so fucking good, so _needy_ —it isn't difficult to get going again.

"I'm going to fuck you," Geralt tells him. "Hard. Are you ready, Jaskier?"

Jaskier nods vigorously, face pressed into the blankets.

Geralt pushes back inside him, rolls his hips until he finds a good rhythm, and goes hard. As promised.

_"Mmmnh!"_

Jaskier gives a strangled shout. And then he starts to move, eager to meet Geralt's thrusts, a thick slapping of skin on skin that fills the campsite with sound. Geralt shifts until he finds the right angle, until every sliding movement makes Jaskier _wail_. The sounds that pour out of him are pure sex, all the better for the way the gag traps them in his mouth like a secret.

Geralt can't last long like this, not after everything he's done to Jaskier today, not with the sounds he's making under Geralt's hands, wearing the gag they bought together. Geralt feels the tension building, coiling hot and tight and thick. He finds Jaskier's cock with his oil-slick hand and strokes him in time with his thrusts.

Jaskier comes apart with a muffled scream, and his body clenches tight around Geralt's cock as he spills onto the blankets below them. Geralt picks up speed, and a few seconds later he feels the tension spark and snap, spiralling out into a white-hot pleasure that has him gasping, light-headed and shaking through his release.

 _"Jaskier,"_ he groans, buried deep. Jaskier hums into the gag, exhausted but finally satisfied.

Geralt slowly pulls out, and watches as his seed spills out of Jaskier's swollen hole.

Jaskier's fingers wriggle behind his back, and Geralt unbinds him, tossing the belt aside. Jaskier's arms flop down, and then move slow and shaky.

Geralt undoes the gag, slips it off, and Jaskier gasps.

" _Fuck,_ Geralt," Jaskier says breathlessly, and laughs. He rolls over onto his side, and Geralt joins him, shifting aside the soiled blanket.

Jaskier settles closer, seeking warmth and reassurance, and Geralt strokes his back with a quiet hum. Jaskier relaxes under his touch, face buried in Geralt's shoulder.

"You're ruthless," Jaskier says after a minute or so of silence. "I honestly thought I was going to explode. And you left me waiting there for so _long_ —"

"You're fine," Geralt replies with a slight smile. He kisses the top of Jaskier's head, and Jaskier stretches like a contented cat.

"I'm going straight to sleep," Jaskier announces, and then yawns widely to prove it. "Don't wake me up unless we’re under attack. Or there's food."

"I'll make dinner," Geralt says, something very fond in his chest. "You've earned your rest for tonight."

"Oh _good,_ because I'm starving, you slave-driver." Jaskier flaps his hand in Geralt's direction. "Next time, we're stopping for lunch."

"You'll have to earn it," Geralt warns, and he feels Jaskier smile against his shoulder. He smells warm and _happy,_ and Geralt will never get tired of that scent.

"I always do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we've reached the end! I might post another chapter in the future if inspiration strikes, but otherwise this is it :) thank you for reading!


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